BB#2

On Sunday I did Banana Belt #2 to try and get in some serious basemiles. We did the first 600 meters at a real relaxed pace, keeping it zone one and all. Later, there was a spell where CMG was shutting it down when they had a break they liked. It lasted about 1.2 miles. So, that’s nearly 2 basemiles. I should be good for the year.

The other 62 miles were a blast. Attacks and bridges and counters and elbows and grit and all sorts of things that make this game so very, very sweet. I know I should be taking it easy, but, well… I feel so sorry for the parallel universe Markwelders that decided to skip these early races (I try not to even think about the poor bastards that didn’t buy that old Colnago in Santa Cruz six years ago and try cycling--they’re probably all dead by now, anyways.). Speaking of dead, I crossed wheels going like 27 (totally my fault) and still can’t believe my recovery. I won’t even go into it, but I will say that I stand by my choice of wheels. I can’t believe humans can make something strong enough to have not shattered right then.

As far as the race played out… we did 6 laps, 64 miles at 24.5 mph. We drilled the climb after the dam every time but the second. We didn’t get to have hotspots because we let three people go. There was a split up the climb this one time, and fearing a repeat of last week, I gave all over the top (but of course took a breath to whoop “Playman!” on our way past her group—it turned out to be a brilliant team tactic—she totally won), bridged a bit and I actually made the split. And then the severed peloton healed and all that pain was for naught. I guess any split I can hang with is probably going nowhere. There was a late second group of three that I had to (I was there alone) sit, watch and hope the other teams brought back. It was looking dubious, and then Tonkin pulled through. Break over. In the sprint, I tried to follow the right guys, went late, got bumped pretty hard, cramped in both quads and still got pretty near the front by the line. That felt good. When it was all said and done my finish was called “a 6th”. Eff yeah. I know it’s road racing, and if you didn’t win then you lost, but still… I was done for the day before a lot of really fast guys. I was smilin’. Heck, I still am… even though it’s 2 am, I work tomorrow and I just ate a whole thing of Soy Dream (and some candy beans) while typing this steaming pile.

Billseye pix:

This season: Alone, surrounded by green-tinted hamburglars.
FYI: How it’s done.

Oh, yeah! Blog! Um, so far...

So, three weeks ago, my season didn’t really kick off. The first race was rolling into some faraway Oregon town, I had just begun my base miles and the last race of my coming season was still about, oh, one year away. But, summummabitch, though; racing is where the party’s at. You know that, c'mon. I mean, I could stay home and ride by myself while my new team roadtripped it to the race, or I could get in the van and go and… um, ride by myself.

We strapped it on, lined up and started off down the road at a medium pace. I was shivering at about mile 2 when it started to rain (in February? in Oregon? WTF, right?) and I drifted off the back a little to pull on my new Bellwether Screamin’ Meenie. Right then the first attack jumped and my last contact with the pack had already come and gone. Pop! I hammered for a while with one arm in my jacket and my right half finally started to get warm, but they were long gone. 48 miles by myself. Hilarious. I guess some guy won and a bunch more people tried to race him and they did okay but didn’t win or something. I dunno.

Last week was the first Banana Belt and again I couldn’t resist the call of the dialed. Sheeet, I even bought a series pass. Hell yeah. Base miles? Going slow all day? What the hell kinda bull is that? If you wanna go fast, practice going fast, right? So, this time I hit the trainer for about 10 minutes before the race. Still didn’t get it right, but it was a move in the right direction. It gave me the legs to cover or get into a couple weak ass break attempts early in the race. Then the good one happened and I was too tapped to do anything. A bunch of fast ass dudes (the CMG team was most of them) headed up the road and ended the race for the rest of us. I floundered around all day trying to get into anything that might go after them (yeah right!) and then did a little practice sprint at the end. The good news was that I wasn’t too soft to at least ride with other people this time. The better news was that I had a great time. Got to roll smooth on my fresh tubies on my fresh wheels on my fresh bike, got to hit my legs a couple (tens of) times and, on a few occasions, got to get a taste of (Momma! I'm...) going fast. The weather was perfect and after the race the parking lot was live. I ate some Hawaiian bento, picked a couple of brains for some scraps of racing wisdom, partied with EP for a spell while she marshaled the afternoon course and then hit the road for some, yes, base miles. And, yes, yes, yes… a couple of city limit signs.

Here's my well-fed self in my new gang's colors.